Page 30 of Filthy Savage
Axe
Isthis night ever going to end? I hang up the phone after a second call that involves way too much negotiating with Silas. My Prez is already calling me whipped for running off and shirking my day job in favor of protecting Angel. Sure, Silas slowed his roll when I mentioned the slip of paper with mine and Angel’s name on it, the Los Diablos pricks, and the part about dodging bullets. Still there was way too much haggling to call the man off the ‘you’re on the run because she must be the one’ ledge. During the first phone call, Silas also made me give my word that I would store my baby somewhere safe and figure out another ride out of town. No clubhouse and no bike? Fuck, deciding to go into hiding is turning into a serious sacrifice.
I take it all in stride. Things could be worse. For example, it’s purely coincidence that the diner is a few hundred feet from a gas station, and it just so happens that the owner has an old crappy rust bucket of a minivan for sale for four hundred dollars. The vehicle is a fucking piece of shit, but the engine is in decent shape, so I buy it on the spot, promising to set up the insurance and ownership the next day. After that purchase, I only have to drive my bike a mile up the desolate backroads behind the diner before I notice an abandoned farmhouse tucked away from the roads. It’s a risk leaving my baby here, but hell, it’s a better bet driving the minivan than motoring along on a ride that screams Satan’s Saints. My walk back to the gas station is quiet enough, so overall, an extra hour to keep unwanted attention away from us is not too big a cost.
Now that I’m back at the door of the motel, I can relax. Cracking the kinks out of my neck, I light up and take a slow drag on my cigarette. I let the smoke infuse my lungs for a good while before exhaling through my nostrils. Maybe it’s time to get back inside and crash for the night. I finish off my cancer stick and brace myself. Angel should be sleeping by now, but with the TV on, my guess is that she’s waiting up for me. It wouldn’t surprise me much. Who can possibly sleep on the first night their life gets turned upside down in five seconds flat?
I take a deep breath, half-choking on the leftover nicotine in my lungs. Shoving the key in the lock, I twist the doorknob and tentatively step inside. Angel is in the middle of the bed propped up by both pillows. She shoots me a cold glance before returning her gaze to the TV.
“Hey. All good in here?”
“Just awesome,” she answers, not bothering to look at me.
I kick off my shoes and line it up with hers near the door. “You must be exhausted.”
“Getting there.”
I walk over to the foot of the bed and take a seat, staring idly at what looks like a late-night infomercial. “I’m pretty much ready to turn in,” I tell her.
“Knock yourself out.” I only notice the reflection of a pillow missile in the TV screen. It flies out of Angel’s hand, and I can’t react in time. It hits me right in the back of my head.
“You’re still feeling playful this time of night?” I ask, reaching down to the floor to pick up the less than fluffy projectile.
Angel is staring right at me when I sit up and pivot around to look her in the eye. No, not staring. It’s more like glowering mixed in with what I imagine intent to kill would look like on a woman’s face.
“What the hell does it matter to you? Just because you’re staying in the room with me doesn’t mean you’re going to wife up, bro. Get your head on straight. I’m not your old lady. You’re fucking working here.” She turns her killer stare to the TV screen. “Trust me, I got the point loud and clear.”
Oh.
Okay, that didn’t go over well, hearing Angel flip the script and pretty much repeat exactly what I told Silas a while ago.
I run my hands through my hair and blow out an inaudible breath. “You weren’t supposed to hear that conversation.”
She gives me a fake smile. “Well too late, because I did. So grab that pillow and knock yourself out on that couch while you fucking work.”
“Shit. Come on. You’re taking things way out of context.”
She does not give me an answer.
It’s too late at night and I’ve done too much already. “Big fucking deal. So you heard me. I said some shit. Yeah, I’m a guy. We say dumb shit sometimes. What else?”
Angel’s eyes remain glued to the TV. “Have a good rest.”
“And what the hell did you expect me to tell my boss? That I’ve run away with a woman I just met who could be my old lady one day? Like you’d ever sign up for anything other than a few late-night booty calls with a low-down biker gang member. Give me some fucking credit.”
Suddenly, being here with this icy energy in the room only helps to box me in and make me feel trapped. Sleeping indoors is not a good idea.
“I’ll be outside. Thanks for the pillow.”
“Axe, wait,” she blurts out when my feet are back in my boots and my hand is on the door, ready to make my exit.
“What?” I bark, not releasing the door handle.
Next thing, she’ll be crying after this shit show. I only have myself to blame for getting too close, and way too fast. We both need a reality check.
Angel turns off the TV. “You’re right,” she says in a whisper. “I deserved that. I’ve not been kind or accepting of you, or even grateful to you for your help. For that, I apologize. And the truth is I’m not looking for a relationship with anyone right now, so you have every right to say what you did to your boss.”
At least she’s honest. “Exactly.”
